


In The Flesh

by LoadedRevolver



Series: The Lionheart and The Lunatic [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Jeribrose, M/M, Mentions of Rolleigns - Freeform, handjobs, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People say you should never meet your idols, but since when did Dean Ambrose ever worry about what other people thought?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Flesh

_February 18th, 2013_

The dressing room had been a calmer place before Seth had all but ran into it, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. At least he’d had the common sense to wait until the door had slammed shut behind him to start yelling excitedly.

“Jesus Christ……you’ll never guess who Trips just put into our six man tag match?”  
Roman tightened one of the straps on his vest, and just smiled. “Orton?” Seth just shook his head no, and kept grinning.

“Shawn Michaels come out of retirement? Always wanted to kick his ass.” Dean was busy trying to get the straps on his own vest to sit straight. Seth damn near giggled out loud. “Dean, if it was Shawn Michaels, do you think I’d be this calm? Nope. It’s Jericho!”

Seth was all but doing a jig in the middle of the dressing room now, pre match nerves bubbling over into excitement. “Holy shit. Jericho. Y2J. Chris fucking Jericho. Woah….”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Dunno what you’re so freaked out about, Chris is a pretty cool guy. I’ve met him once or twice.”

“What? When? You never said!”

“Never felt the need to. I met him when dad brought me to a show in Miami, because Matt was wrestling that night.” Dean could have sworn he’d seen Seth pout at that admission. “Is there anyone you haven’t met?” asked Seth, folding his arms and trying not to smile. Roman sat down and started tying his laces. 

“I’ve never met Savage. He left the company before Dad started dragging me to shows.”

“HOORAY!” yelled Seth, a hint of a giggle in his voice. “Someone Rome’s never met! At last!”

“Is now a good time to mention that Shawn Michaels and Trips once snuck me out of an arena to go on a candy run? They scared the shit out of my mom, because they didn’t tell her where we were going.”

“I hate you.”

Seth and Roman bickered back and forth for a while, Roman telling Seth of who he’d met as a child and Seth getting more and more envious with every name that was mentioned. But Dean wasn’t paying attention. Only one name was stuck in his mind; Chris Jericho.

The infamous Y2J.

He’d rather die before he admitted it to anyone, but he’d always had a bit of a fan boy crush on Jericho. Not that he’d ever considered it a sexual thing, but there was something about Chris Jericho that Dean had always liked. His matches were always entertaining, his work on the mic was something else, and Dean had quietly wondered what it would be like to actually wrestle a match with him. And that brought up memories of when he’d met Jericho for the first and so far only time.

Dean had, for lack of a better phrase, made a total tit of himself.

He’d managed to gather up enough courage to all but swagger over towards Chris, smiling when he’d noticed that he was wearing the same type of jacket as Jericho. Warm, padded, almost like a lumberjack’s one. But as usual with Dean, he overthought things as he walked towards Chris. Instead of dazzling him with something witty, all Dean could come out with was “Nice jacket…….” Chris had given him a look, one that silently asked “Who is this doofus?”, before he turned away to continue talking to Christian. All Dean could do was slink back to where Seth, Roman and Byron Saxton were standing. After that, the closest Dean had come to Chris was watching him from backstage on a monitor, or passing him in a hallway in Buttfuck, Ohio.

Dean was mindlessly fiddling with the straps on his vest, making sure they were tightened before starting to strap up his hands. He hadn’t been paying attention to Seth and Roman’s bickering until a pair of rolled up socks bounced off of his forehead. “OI! Didn’t you hear who we’re up against tonight?” asked Seth. Dean just threw the socks back at Seth. “Yeah. Jericho. So?” Seth’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“So? _SO_? It’s Chris Jericho, Dean. You’re not even the tiniest bit excited?”

“Nope. Should I be?” He started to play with the edges of the tape on his hands, nerves starting to flare up as the news slowly sank in.

Jericho. He was wrestling Jericho, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should be excited, nervous or just all out scared shitless at the prospect. Seth was still trying to process the fact that Dean wasn’t as excited as he was about Jericho being added to their match, and wasn’t paying attention to Roman, who was watching Dean going through the motions. Dean was slow, steady, and almost methodical in checking and double checking his gear.  
“You okay, Ambrose?”  
Dean looked at Roman, any apprehension that had been there now safely locked away behind icy blue eyes.  
“I’m fine. Just trying to concentrate on the match.”  
“You sure?”  
Something close to anger flashed briefly across Dean’s face before he stared back at Roman defiantly.  
“I’m sure.” Roman merely cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine to me.”  
“I SAID, I’M FINE.”  
Seth jumped at the tone of Dean’s voice, and Roman wisely shut up. One last tightening of the straps on his vest, and Dean stormed out of the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. It was Seth who broke the uncomfortable silence. “I honestly thought he’d be excited at the idea of wrestling Jericho. Guess I was wrong.”

 

The scene in Jericho’s dressing room could not have been more different. There was calmness to the room, a comfortable silence between Chris and his partners for that night’s match, Sheamus and Ryback as they got ready in their own ways. Chris had a routine down pat after so many years on the road, and so he wasn’t too concerned about what order his gear was laid out in. The only thing he was vaguely worried about right now was the new light up jacket he wore to the ring and if it was all still in working order.

Ryback was sitting in one corner of the large room, headphones on and tapping out a rhythm on his thighs, psyching himself up for what Chris had been warned was sure to be an all-out, knockdown, drag out brawl. Sheamus had settled for pacing back and forth, throwing shadow punches and muttering to himself under his breath. He’d been in the ring with The Shield the night before, and was sporting an impressive bruise on his back where one of The Shield had speared him through the timekeeper’s booth. Chris wasn’t too familiar with this new team, but that wasn’t to say he hadn’t been paying attention to them at Elimination Chamber.

“So, Sheamus…..these guys we’re against tonight. Any tips? Anything I should be looking out for?” asked Chris, digging through his bag and pulling out his boots and trunks. Sheamus snorted. “If I knew for certain what they’d be doing, I’d warn you. They’re unpredictable. No-one’s been able to figure them out yet.”  
“I think I recognise one of them. Isn’t the bigger one of them Sika’s kid?” For a moment, the younger man looked confused, trying to figure out who Sika was.  
“Come on, surely you remember Rosey? Three Minute Warning? Ended up being Hurricane Helms’ sidekick.”  
“Ah.”, replied Sheamus. “That would be Roman. The guy looks like a Samoan Fabio.”  
It was Chris’s turn to laugh now, and both of them grinned at the idea of Roman on the cover of a romance novel. They were interrupted by Ryback’s amused huff.

“Samoan Fabio, huh? Yeah, he’s a total chick magnet. Not.” He and Sheamus shared a knowing grin, and this left Chris a tad confused. He looked at Sheamus, wondering just what they were on about. “Okay, I am obviously missing something here.”

“What this eejit is trying to say is that while most of the girls out there are drooling over Roman, he’s only got eyes for Rollins.” Now that was a shock to Chris. Last time he’d seen Roman, he’d been backstage at a PPV, and his date had been a very beautiful young lady.

“Rollins…..Rollins…..okay, which one is he?”

“The guy with the blond streak in his hair.” answered Ryback, rolling his neck as he stood up. “Little shit’s fast, too. You’ll need eyes in the back of your head for him.” Sheamus nodded in agreement. “He’s one of these guys who doesn’t know when to stay down. And they’ll all look out for each other; to the point of exhaustion.”

Chris listened to his partners for that night’s match go on about how Roman was the power behind The Shield, and how Seth Rollins was damn near ninja like, which made him curious about the third member of the team. From what he’d heard, this Ambrose kid was being tipped for big things in WWE, and he was vaguely aware of his reputation in the Indies.

It may have helped that the kid was incredibly easy on the eyes.

Chris was pulled from his thoughts by Sheamus shoving his shoulder. “You’re forgetting about the last member. He’s probably the one you have to worry about the most.”

“And that would be……..Ambrose, right?”

“Yep. He’s a real handful. Unpredictable. It’s as if he doesn’t go into any match with a game plan, so to speak.” Chris looked at his partners in disbelief. “He can’t have gotten this far if he’s as unpredictable as all that.”

Ryback had changed into his ring gear by now, and sat beside Chris. If anyone had some kind of handle on The Shield, it was him. He’d faced them more times than anyone else, and had been on the receiving end of their Triple Powerbomb on more than one occasion. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s fun to fight, but by God, will he keep you on your toes. And forget about trying to figure him out, because I honestly don’t think even he knows what he’s doing next.”

If they were trying to put Chris off of this kid, they were failing miserably.

“One more thing; Ambrose has no problem working stiff if he knows that’s your style. He’s a damn good wrestler, and he knows how far he can go, but it’s impossible to know exactly what he’s going to do next.” Chris nodded, and quickly put his trunks and pads on.

“Maybe we should meet up with these guys, have a quick run through of what they’d be comfortable doing during the match?” Sheamus shrugged, before nodding in agreement. “Wouldn’t hurt. Unlike getting a fuckin’ spear from Reigns without warning. My ribs still haven’t forgiven him.”

 

Half an hour later, all six men were sitting in a backstage office they’d commandeered for their impromptu meeting, trying to figure out what was going to work out and what wasn’t. Despite the fact that Sheamus had taken a beating the night before, he agreed to take yet another Spear from Roman. Ryback was pretty much up for anything The Shield was willing to throw at him, although Chris vaguely heard him asking Ambrose to go easy on his ribs. Ambrose just nodded in agreement, before going back to chewing on his fingernails.

Not that Chris was paying much attention to what else was being said; he couldn’t take his eyes off of the so called unpredictable one of The Shield. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but there was something about Ambrose that intrigued Chris. Dean was sitting in a corner, feigning boredom, but Chris knew that look on his face. It reminded him of many nights spent in shitty dressing rooms in Buttfuck, Oregon with another Dean, when he’d ramble on and on about anything, and Malenko would sit there with his best poker face on. Chris would be convinced that Malenko hadn’t heard a word he’d said, only to hit Chris with it three days later.

Maybe he’d been staring too long, maybe he’d zoned out, but Chris wasn’t sure exactly when Ambrose had stopped chewing on his fingernails and begun to stare back at him. Baby blues were now staring at him, and he wasn’t sure if he was feeling uncomfortable because he’d been caught out or because for some strange reason, this kid was making Chris feel like shoving him into the nearest empty room and kissing him until he saw stars. Ambrose just slowly grinned at Chris, and raised an eyebrow at him before feigning interest in what Seth and Sheamus were discussing. Chris could only smirk at the cocky fucker sitting across from him.

Dean was on autopilot. It wasn’t what was between his ears that was thinking for him, and right now he really didn’t care. If he’d thought Jericho was sexy on a shitty TV screen with equally shitty reception, then the man was nothing short of a work of art as he sat across from Dean. Try as he might, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of Jericho. He thought he’d gotten away with it for a while, Chris was seemingly paying more attention to what moves Seth was hoping to use, or how Sheamus was telling Roman that he didn’t mind taking another Spear, but to ‘go easy, fella’. Ryback wasn’t saying much, but Dean put that down to the fact that he was just as green as The Shield were. No point in trying to make yourself look better than the living legend who was staring back at Dean now, and looking puzzled and sexy in equal parts. Dean grinned at Chris, damn near daring him to do something, anything. Chris smirked at him, and Dean had to look away before anyone else spotted just how much he actually wanted Jericho. The last thing he wanted or needed was to look like a total fanboy……even if he felt like one.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by an elbow jabbing into his ribs. “OW! What was that for?” Seth just grinned. “Meeting’s over, fanboy.” Dean glared at his team mate. “Fuck you, I am not a fanboy.” “Sure you’re not. That’s why you agreed to let Sheamus hit you with a brogue kick.” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck…..”

 

Dean had managed to focus somewhat after the meeting, even if he’d taken a ribbing from Jimmy and Jey Uso. Seth hadn’t been much better, trying his level best to rile him up by calling him ‘fanboy’, only getting the hint that Dean was not in the mood when Dean glared at him from across the table in catering. Roman just looked at Dean whenever the subject of Jericho was brought up. Something wasn’t quite right, but Roman was screwed if he could put a finger on it. He wasn’t brave enough (or stupid enough)to ask Dean what was on his mind; especially when he was slipping into his ‘fuck it, I wanna fight’ mind set. They’d gone through the motions back in their dressing room, Dean still stoically silent as he tied the laces on his boots.

“You two ready to go?” asked Dean, fiddling with the tape on his hands. Seth nodded, tightening the straps on his vest before grabbing two bottles of water on his way out. Roman brought up the rear, pausing only to dump a bottle of water over his hair as they made their way towards Gorilla. They were just about getting used to the stares thrown their way as they walked through the corridors from people who bought into the whole ‘do not fuck with us’ vibe they had while in character. They’d gotten used to the admiring stares from the women very quickly; even if Seth and Roman only had eyes for each other. Besides, Dean could fuck his way through the rapidly growing queue of chicks for them all. They had enough time between the Swagger and Bryan match and the segment with Maddox, Vickie and Vince to go over their checklist for the match, making sure they knew where they were meant to be and what they were doing. In the middle of all of this, Dean felt someone plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he turned around to find a smiling Renee Young standing beside him.

“Just thought I’d come over and give you a kiss for good luck.” She reached up to wipe her lipstick off of Dean’s cheek, thumb brushing gently across the skin.

“Um……thanks?” replied Dean, wondering when exactly Renee had decided he was in need of a good luck kiss. More to the point, why had she felt the need to just give him a kiss and not Roman and Seth?

“Not a problem. See you around, Ambrose.” And with a wave, Renee was gone, leaving a puzzled Dean and a grinning Seth and Roman behind.

“Oh, man…….she has so got the hots for you!” laughed Seth, pouring a bottle of water over his head and dampening down the frizz of his hair.

“Hmph. Not my type, Rollins.”

“Why not? She’s got a pulse and a set of tits.” Seth ducked as Dean lashed out in an attempt to slap him upside the head. “FUCK YOU! Maybe she does, but I have standards, thank you.”

“Sure you do. That last chick you hooked up with looked like a real keeper. I bet you saw her as the future mother of your children.”

“Well.....she could do this thing with her tongue and WHY THE FUCK AM I EXPLAINING MYSELF TO YOU TWO?” yelled Dean.

“I admire your taste in dudes as well.” Roman piped up. “No, really. I was almost tempted to leave this one here for the last one you had back at your place. Impressive ‘tache.”

“Fuck you, and fuck you too!”

Dean was too busy making sure his vest was strapped tightly enough to see the small grin that appeared on Seth’s face, nor did he see exactly who Seth was grinning at. Maybe if he had, he’d have turned tail and ran off to their position in one of the hallways. Seth nudged him.

“What now?” snapped Dean.

“Just thought you might want to grab your autograph book, Deano.”

“Why?”

“Here comes Jericho.”

Dean’s heart dropped somewhere into the region of his right foot. His mouth went dry, his palms started sweating and try as he might he blushed. Fuck. He really didn’t need this, not now, and definitely not in front of Seth and Roman. He’d never live it down. Bad enough he’d zoned out and agreed to a boot to the face, he didn’t need to revert to being all of fifteen years old with a crush on the head cheerleader. Dean was fucked if he was letting the other two see his hands shaking. Best to try and slip away unnoticed…….

Which would have worked if he’d moved thirty seconds sooner. He felt a tug at the strap on the back of his vest, a strong hand gently holding him in place. “Ah. Finally managed to track you down, Ambrose.” Chris’ voice filled Dean’s stomach with butterflies, and he knew without even looking at Seth and Roman that he’d been rumbled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with what we’d discussed earlier?” Seth smiled at Roman.

“I think this is our cue to get in position. Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say our boy here has a crush. Chris and Deano, sitting in a tree….”

Roman tried his best not to laugh out loud.

“Babe, behave. And _focus_. We’ve got a match. By the way, where’s my good luck kiss?”

Dean just gave a one fingered salute as his team mates walked off, before trying to calm down enough to at least speak without his voice shaking. "Um....yeah. Yeah. I'm pretty much okay with whatever works, y'know? You work stiff? I can ease up if you don't......" Chris smiled, before running a hand quickly over Dean’s vest. It was a gentle touch, almost as if he were smoothing out non-existent creases, and Dean could have sworn he felt sparks go off beneath his skin.

“Looks like the big fella gave you some pretty heavy blows here last night.”

Dean swallowed, wondering if he’d actually be able to make his way up to where Seth and Roman were waiting without feeling as if his legs had gone to jelly, before realising that Chris was now looking right at him.

“Wouldn’t want to make things any worse than they are. Trips would have a fit if I had a hand in breaking the new talent so soon.” Dean grinned, and cocked an eyebrow. Breaking the new talent? What was he now, a delicate flower?  
Chris shivered as Dean slipped into character almost immediately. He’d seen some good looking guys in his time in the WWE, but this kid was something else.

“That was nothing. It’d take a lot more than that to break me.” Either Chris’ eyes were playing tricks on him, or Ambrose was coming closer towards him. Dean smirked as he slowly walked Chris backwards, only stopping when Chris’s back hit the nearest wall. He leaned forward, close enough to smell mouthwash on Chris’ breath. “Feel free to do your worst.”

Chris damn near stopped breathing when he felt Dean’s lips brush against his own, softly closing around them before he pulled away.

“See ya out there, Jericho.”

 

Dean only had hazy memories of the match after Sheamus hit him with the Brogue Kick he barely remembered agreeing to. He remembered being in the ring with Chris before he was kicked off of the ring apron. He remembered Chris going pretty stiff on him, his teeth rattling as Chris slammed an elbow into his jaw. He remembered hitting Chris into the gut with a knee, and wondering why he got a semi when Chris fell to his knees. And he definitely remembered getting a handful of Chris’ ass when he got taken down by a cross body block.

He finally figured out that Chris was feeling the same as he was when he distracted the ref long enough to let Roman hit a Spear on Ryback. They were inches apart, yelling at each other, when he locked eyes with Chris. It was the kind of look that clearly said “I want you NOW.”

And Dean wasn’t going to argue with that.

Chris had never been the type to flirt outrageously, and certainly not during a televised match. But this Ambrose kid had managed to get into Chris’ head with one simple and very brief kiss. Unlike Chris, however, Dean had no problem in flirting with him during the match. The first sign that Dean was definitely interested in him was as he was making his way down to the ring. Dean had looked at him and grinned, cocking an eyebrow before coming down the stairs and through the crowd with Rollins. He vaulted over the barrier, all swagger and arrogance, and Chris couldn’t take his eyes off of him. As soon as they hooked up for their first section of the match, Chris could have sworn he felt sparks between them. He hit Dean with a flying cross body block, knocking him flying backwards and landing on him with a solid thump. Dean’s breath came out with a harsh oof, and goosebumps broke out across Chris’ arm.

Roman was watching Dean and Chris as the match went on. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he could see that Chris was paying more interest in Dean than what was happening in the ring. Dean, meanwhile was trying to eye fuck Chris subtly. Thankfully, the TV audience wouldn’t notice it, but Roman knew. He waited until Seth had tagged himself in before nudging Dean.

“Enjoying the view? Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at Jericho’s ass.”

Dean didn’t reply, just glared at his partner.

Whatever doubts Chris was having about wanting to bend Dean over backstage and fuck his brains out evaporated when Ryback was unlucky enough to get caught in The Shield’s corner. Roman had draped a dazed and confused Ryback over the middle ropes, before distracting the referee. Dean had used that to his advantage and wrapped his thighs around Ryback’s head, hooking a foot under the rope and using it to try and choke his opponent out. And as if that sight hadn’t filled Chris’ mind with all manner of X rated scenarios, Dean casually leaned back and stared straight at him, his hips moving back and forth in a subtle attempt to drive Chris insane.

By the time both Dean and Chris tagged back in, you could cut the atmosphere between them with a knife. Dean couldn’t concentrate, and Chris just wanted to get in there so the match would finish sooner, rather than later. Dean took the shoulder blocks like a champ, hitting the ring and selling them as if he’d been hit by a truck. Chris followed them up with a running bulldog, leaving Dean prone in the middle of the ring, set up perfectly for a Lionsault. It was as Chris attempted a pin that he finally managed to say something to Dean. He hooked his arm under Dean’s knee, leaned back so that the cameras didn’t pick it up.

“Backstage?”

Dean’s stomach lurched. It wasn’t a simple statement. He knew it was a request, a single word that encapsulated the instant attraction they’d both felt as soon as Chris had tugged on Dean’s vest. Dean kicked out at two, groggily clambering to his knees. Chris wondered if Dean looked as good naked in that position as he did fully dressed. He went over, grabbing Dean by the legs, beginning to set him up for the Walls of Jericho, only for Dean to hook his legs and put him into a small cradle. Dean’s crotch was mere inches from Chris’ face in this position, and he gasped as Dean leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Fuck, yes.”

 

Five minutes later, Dean had managed to shake off Seth and Roman, and was now wandering around the maze of corridors backstage, looking for Chris. Truth be told, he felt like a glorified ring rat, looking for a quick fuck before being dismissed. But if this was the only chance he had at getting into Jericho’s pants, then by fuck, Dean was grabbing it with both hands. He’d been so eager to find Chris, that he’d foregone a shower. If he was lucky, there’d be a chance to grab one back at the hotel.

He was just about ready to give up when he vaguely heard the door beside him creak open, a hand shooting out and grabbing his vest, dragging him backwards. Dean was spun around, back hitting the door.

“You took your fucking time.”

Chris had him pinned to the door, buckles digging into his back as he tried not to squirm. Before he could even think of replying Dean found himself being kissed as if Chris’ life depended on it, hard and fast, almost sucking Dean’s breath out of his lungs. A loud moan worked its way up and out of Dean as he began to kiss Chris back, just as hard and fast, his tongue dragging across Chris’ lips. Chris gasped, giving Dean the chance to deepen the kiss as his hands began to move of their own accord. He managed to pull the zipper on Chris’ hoodie down, pushing it off of his shoulders just as Chris began to tackle the straps on Dean’s vest. Chris pulled frantically at the straps, damn near swearing out loud as his fingers refused to work. Colours burst behind his eyes, Dean’s kisses becoming more needy and wild, his teeth catching on Chris’ bottom lip and tugging before his tongue swiped across it. It felt like several lifetimes had passed before Chris heard a low, impatient growl coming from Dean, who yanked himself away from Chris and shoved his hands away from the tactical vest.

“For fuck’s…..OH FUCK IT!”

Chris watched as Dean lost his temper with the myriad straps and buckles, yanking the infernal thing open and making pins fly through the air. Despite appearances, Dean was wearing a simple black tank top underneath, and Chris was of the opinion that Dean was far too overdressed. Chris cocked an eyebrow, right before he wrapped his hands into the tank and ripping it with one quick tug. The only reply Chris got was the sound of the vest hitting the floor with a muted thump and Dean surging forward to kiss him, all teeth and tongue. His hands dragged down Chris’ sides, thumbs hooking under the waist of the trunks Chris hadn’t been bothered to change out of. Dean’s nails dragged lazily across tanned skin, making Chris groan into Dean’s mouth and push the younger man back against the door. Hands took on a life of their own; Chris’ coming down to fumble with the belt on Dean’s pants, Dean’s shoving none too gently down into Chris’ trunks and grabbing a handful of Chris’s ass. Dean pulled Chris closer to him, his kiss becoming less frantic and slowing down, suckling on Chris’s bottom lip. Chris silently cursed his inability to get that damn belt of Dean’s open, pulling impatiently at the buckle and growling into the kiss.

Dean reluctantly broke away from kissing Chris, lips red and swollen.

“Easy, tiger. Want me to open it?” He began to move his hands from where they were, and Chris glared at him.

 

“Don’t even think about it. I got it.”, he replied, finally getting his hands to co-operate. The only sound in the small office was that of the belt quietly hissing as Chris pulled it out of its loops, closely followed by the soft rasp of Dean’s zipper being pulled down. Dean stared at Chris, eyes wide, softly gasping as the button holding his pants closed was popped open. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Chris’ as he felt Chris’ hand snake under the waistband of the compression shorts, fingertips softly grazing across skin before his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock. Dean groaned out loud, loud enough for the sound to seep into Chris’ brain and for Chris to pray to anyone remotely holy that he’d get to hear that sound again. 

Dean’s hips bucked forward, another loud groan escaping from him as Chris slowly began to jack him off, settling into an easy rhythm designed to drive Dean insane. Chris’ touch was addictive, Dean wanted more, wanted this to continue until his knees went weak and his vision greyed out and why the fuck were his cargo pants and underwear still bunched up under his balls? The few moments of silence between them seemed to stretch out for hours, broken only by a harsh breath from Dean as Chris slowly brushed his thumb across the head of Dean’s cock. Dean’s eyes slid closed. Chris’ other hand traced a path up Dean’s arm, watching as Dean visibly shuddered as he ran his free hand across the back of his neck and pulled Dean closer. Blue locked onto blue, and Dean’s tongue swiped slowly across his bottom lip.

Chris wanted to tell Dean how he felt right now, turned on beyond words and wanting to stay locked in this office for hours on end. But the words wouldn’t come. He was transfixed by how Dean looked in front of him; eyes heavily lidded and kiss swollen lips a dark red, skin slightly chapped. Chris had never seen anyone look so thoroughly fucked without having cum before; Dean was stunning. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…..” was what Chris finally managed to whisper out, right before he kissed Dean again, his hand starting to slowly jack Dean off. He didn’t expect to feel, rather than hear the loud groan that worked its way up and out of Dean as his hips began to match the rhythm Chris was beginning to set with his hand. He was vaguely aware of Dean’s fingernails scraping against his hips as he impatiently shoved Chris’ trunks down, snapped back to reality as a hand wrapped around his cock with a firm grip and effortlessly matched Chris’ strokes. It was as if a white hot bolt of electricity shot through Chris at Dean’s touch, and he pulled his mouth away from Dean’s, a low moan echoing around the room. For a moment, the silence was stifling. The only sounds in the office were that of small gasps and ragged breaths followed by the sound of hands sliding wetly against hardened flesh.

Dean’s world had narrowed down to the door currently holding him upright and the man in front of him who was currently driving him slowly insane. Heat pooled at the base of his spine, Chris’s hand slowly stroking him, his knees already beginning to go weak. And just when Dean thought he might die from the slow teasing, Chris gently twisted his hand as he reached the head of Dean’s cock. The first sign that Chris had done something right was Dean’s hips pushing forward, hard. The second was the low thump of Dean’s head as it fell back against the door. The last sign was one that turned Chris on and scared him in equal measure. 

“JESUS FUCK!!”

And damn it if Chris didn’t all out shudder at that declaration. It took a few seconds for him to come back to reality and wonder who else had heard Dean yelling. Not that it had made a blind bit of difference to either of them, both now in a world of their own. Dean had begun to stroke Chris’ cock again, his thumb rubbing over the head and smearing precum messily down the side, a dreamy, blissed out grin on his face as he heard Chris swear not so quietly. 

If it was a game of one upmanship Dean wanted, then Chris was up for that.

Chris pulled out every trick in the book that he could think of, determined to make this kid a sweating wreck by the time he came. He sped his hand up, mirroring Dean’s earlier move of swiping his thumb across the head of Dean’s cock, grinning as he shuddered under the touch. Dean lightly scraped his nails down Chris’ length, eyes sliding shut as a low hiss of breath hit him in the face. Chris slowed down, so did Dean. The urge to push against Dean and kiss him until he saw fireworks was overwhelming. 

Dean was beginning to think that if he was going to die, then now was the perfect time. He was no blushing virgin, but this was beyond anything he’d ever felt. It was as if his bones had gone to jelly, pleasure rocketing through him, fogging his mind and his hand working on auto pilot. He had to be doing something right, judging by the low moans and whispered curses that were flying out of Chris. Dean wasn’t thinking about anything except what Chris was currently doing to him. He was vaguely aware of his hand moving on Chris’ hard length, but the edges of his mind had gone fuzzy, and things seemed to feel more intense as Chris kept up the assault on his neck. Goosebumps broke out across his skin, Chris’ lips and tongue tracing a path down Dean’s throat, across his shoulder and down towards his collarbone.

Chris knew he’d found one of Dean’s hotspots when he gently licked a stripe across his collarbone. He’d shuddered as soon as he’d felt Chris’ tongue make contact with his skin, his grip on Chris’ cock tightening. Sparks went off behind Dean’s eyelids, head thrown back and throat exposed, hips still moving into Chris’ hand. Chris’s hips matched Dean’s, and wild horses couldn’t have torn him away from him. Chris began to cover the skin there in kisses, suckling and nipping, determined to leave a mark behind. The more that Chris took his time, the more noise Dean made. Dean was just about aware of the need to be discreet, but his mouth was in danger of running away with itself. He felt Chris’ teeth gently bite down, skin not quite yielding, a nerve jangling fizz of pleasure shooting through him, and he let loose with a groan that sounded more like a purr. His left hand came up to card through Chris’ hair, holding him in place and not so silently giving Chris permission to keep going. 

Chris wasn’t so much as kissing and sucking across the bronzed skin as damn near worshipping it. Dean’s rhythm hadn’t faltered, and Chris was sure that if it had been anyone else, he’d be screaming their name by now. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Dean Ambrose, and there was no way in hell Chris was coming first. Not this time. He was going to make Ambrose come apart at the seams if it killed him. Judging by the soft groans and the way Dean had now slumped back against the door, Chris figured he was well on the way to making Dean fall apart. Still Dean matched the rhythm Chris had set, and Chris was barely aware of anything other than Dean’s hand on his cock and pleasure coursing through his body. He brought his hand up along Dean’s cock, twisting his hand as he reached the head and rubbed his thumb through the pre cum he found there. Dean’s head thumped softly against the door, his grip tightening slightly as he tried to keep up with the pace Chris had settled on. He wasn’t sure if it was because this just felt too damn good or if it was because it was Chris Jericho that was currently in front of him, but Dean wasn’t sure he could hang on for much longer.

Chris was on the verge of unraveling completely. He was no blushing virgin either, he’d had his fair share of road flings and one night stands, but Ambrose was like no-one he’d ever experienced. It didn’t matter how lightly Chris touched him, or how softly he dragged his tongue across the now impressive hickey he’d pulled from Dean’s skin, Dean wasn’t slow about showing his appreciation. Granted, he wasn’t as loud as he’d been earlier, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t letting Chris know if he was doing a good job.

“Fuck….fuck yes, right there.”

Dean tangled a hand into Chris’ hair, tugging on it as his hips pushed up into Chris’ hand. Chris twisted his hand as he sped his strokes up, wanting to hear Dean come undone sooner rather than later. He reluctantly pulled away from Dean’s collarbone, and he could have sworn he’d never seen anything so fucking gorgeous in his life as what he saw right now. Chris shuddered as Dean’s head fell forward, quickly nuzzling into the crook of Chris’ neck and licking a slow stripe up to his ear. And then Chris heard it. It was just one word, but Chris knew he’d become addicted to that sound. A low growl, drawn out and oozing into his mind like molten honey. He’d flicked his hand around the head of Dean’s cock, causing Dean to visibly shudder against him, and then……

“Fuuuuuuuuck………”

Dean’s hips pushed forward hard, and Chris was dimly aware of Dean finally coming over his hand. Anything else was drowned out by Dean gasping into his ear, a garbled stream of swear words and a drawn out groan that seemed to shoot down Chris’ spine and into his crotch. Dean shuddered against Chris, his thumb brushing across the head of Chris’ cock and smiled against sweat damp skin as Chris let out a low growl. He was screwed if he wasn’t going to make Chris fall apart with the same bone shaking intensity he had. Chris all out groaned as he felt Dean lick a stripe up his neck, teeth worrying at his ear lobe and goosebumps erupting as Dean’s strokes gathered pace. Dean smiled against his skin, knowing he’d found a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man on a mission now, determined to see what noises he could pull from Chris before this came to an end.

Chris soon realised that he could get to like Dean’s mouth. Right at this moment, it was his favourite part of him. It never stopped; laid kisses down Chris’ throat, back up to lap and nip at his earlobe. Breath coming out in a rush over saliva damp skin, sending bolts of electricity down his spine and making goosebumps erupt. Dean’s hand stayed at the same pace, slow enough to tease, fast enough to make Chris’ hips pump into his grip. Chris opened his eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of Dean, and the sight damn near made him come undone there and then. His hair was almost dry, curled at the base of his neck, and Chris tangled his fingers in it in an attempt to ground himself. He was just about able to hear Dean mumble to himself before he buried his face into where shoulder met neck.

“Fuck….never thought….”  
The rest was lost as Dean latched onto Chris’ neck, nipping sharply and making Chris all out whine as his head fell forward onto Dean’s shoulder. His legs were rapidly going to jelly, he couldn’t hold back even if he’d wanted to. He was dimly aware of Dean’s voice, just about audible over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“So fucking gorgeous….sing for me….come on…..”

Despite the need to be quiet, Chris couldn’t hold back the loud grunt that escaped him as he came over Dean’s hand, his vision greying and his limbs shaking as he came down. He shivered slightly as Dean took his hand away and pushed him back enough so he could move. The silence in the room was deafening, only broken by the sound of them both trying to catch their breath.Dean visibly shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d just had one of the most mind blowing orgasms of his life, or if it was cold in the room. And why was he still staring at Chris like a lovesick school girl? He watched as Chris looked around the room for something to clean themselves up with.

Suddenly, the sound of a trumpet cut through the quiet like a razor. Chris jumped at the noise, and all Dean could do was giggle. “Guess the moment’s gone, huh?”. Chris smiled. “Nothing says playtime’s over quite like a fucking trumpet.” The next few moments were spent trying to make themselves look halfway decent; Dean had sacrificed his shirt to clean the drying cum off of both of them, while Chris quickly zipped his hoodie up and ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it lay just so.

Silence fell between them again, and Dean found himself being backed against the door once more. He knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of him being able to get it back up, not after the orgasm Chris had damn near yanked out of him. Chris moved closer still, and if this was going to be the big kiss goodbye, Dean was going to take what he could get from it………..

“I’m supposed to be meetin’ Jericho for a beer, Heath! Well, I would be, if I could find the bugger.”

Chris’s eyes went wide. He’d forgotten all about agreeing to go for a few beers with Wade, foregoing a shower in favour of hearing Dean Ambrose moaning obscenities in his ear. Not that he regretted it for a second, but now that they were both stuck in this office, with seemingly no escape, Chris was silently cursing himself.

“Shit.”

“You never mentioned you were meeting Wade.” Dean may not have noticed it, but Chris could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy in Dean’s voice. Chris grinned, sheepishly.

“Well…...my mind was elsewhere.”

Dean said nothing, just smiled as he adjusted himself before zipping his tactical vest up. He gave himself a once over before unlocking the door and slipping out, tapping Wade on the shoulder.

“Ambrose! You seen Jericho anywhere? I’m supposed to be going for a beer with him, only the bugger seems to have disappeared on me.”

“Have you tried catering?” Chris smiled as he heard Dean trying to steer Wade away from the door and back down the corridor. “Let’s try catering, he’s probably waiting down there.”

“Of course I’ve tried catering!” came the slightly annoyed reply. Realisation dawned on Wade’s face, and for a moment, Dean thought he’d been caught out. “Oh……..catering. You trying to make a break for it, Ambrose? Ya dirty get. OKAY, LET’S CHECK CATERING!”

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, fading away as Dean and Wade made their way towards catering. Chris looked around the small office for the last time, and hoped to fuck he’d get another chance to spend more time with Dean Ambrose.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would never have been possible without the support and plotting of sortofgetit over on Tumblr, and the first prompt on Tumblr from ofteacupsandporn. A million and one thanks to them both for giving me a reason to write the wonder that is Jeribrose!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] In The Flesh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047421) by [LoadedRevolver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver), [Moiself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiself/pseuds/Moiself)




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